


Promises

by ieras (orphan_account)



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Smut, having a protag named the reader is really confusing for tagging sometimes tbh, some side volfred/oralech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ieras
Summary: Hedwyn and the Reader become close throughout their journey. Can he keep his promise to help her? Will either of them go free?





	Promises

Hedwyn found her staring at the sky long after their first match. She had not come inside with the rest.

“Here.” He handed her a wooden bowl of soup. The aroma was familiar and reminded her of better days.

“My thanks.”

He smiled as she tried and failed to gracefully gulp down the warm broth, and he looked upward with an easy expression as if the stars were old friends. “You did well, and the others are more hopeful than I've seen them in a long while.”

“You do seem a cheery bunch.”

“The Downside may claim us, but our spirits are our own,” he replied.

What a naive concept. Endearing, but still. She saw why they followed him, stubborn hope in the face of exile seemed plenty motivational. And sincere.

After a while Hedwyn said, “Forgive me if this is too personal, and I understand if you choose not to answer, but…” his eyes drifted to her bandaged legs, wounds he had tended. Damage he had seen firsthand. “Did they do this to you before casting you down here?”

Reader looked at her own useless limbs, suppressed the ever present ache from her injuries. Salves and mental fortitude only went so far, would never go far enough. She would always walk wrong, and it would always hurt.

Thankfully Hedwyn took her silence as an inability to reply. He put a hand on her shoulder. “My promise to you remains the same, Reader. I will free us. All of us. The Rites will see us through.”

With that he went back to the blackwagon, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Absently she thumbed the wooden bowl. It was as worn and splintered as she felt.

“Don't mind Hedwyn, he means well.” Jodariel manifested from the perimeter of their camp, back from patrolling the area.

Reader smiled at her watchfulness. The imposing horned woman liked to seem tough, but she fretted like a mother. “Do you believe in his promise? It seems an awfully good bargain, and you know what they say about favorable appearances.”

“To seize a lying cur if one leaps before you?” Jodariel replied with a smirk.

“Oh, Rukey must love that.”

“He swears by it daily.” Jodariel said. “There's some irony to it as well, as it happens to be good advice when facing a cur in the Rites.”

The Reader chuckled at this. “I was thinking of 'an illusion looks best to the desperate,’ but yours was better.”

Jodariel followed Reader’s line of sight up to the stars. “The Book will tell you more, of that I'm confident. You took to the role well, despite your condition. Besides, there is good sense in hope, and I for one am grateful the Scribes put you on our path.”

“On that we agree.” She toasted her empty bowl as though it were full of drink. “I did enjoy not dying just yet.”

 

 

 

“To think we went through that infernal bog only to wind up here.” Hedwyn groaned as the blackwagon crested a wave in the Sea of Solis.

Reader patted him on the back as he vomited off the prow of the ship. “Jodariel said you’ve never sailed.”

“Is it that apparent?” Hedwyn tried to laugh but only cursed as they passed through another small wave, hands shaking and white knuckled as he clung to the rail. “Apologies, my friend. I’m no good to you like this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you still cook every night despite your condition. Which the Minstrel is not happy with, by the way.”

“It is true, sir, you should be resting,” Tariq said as he walked past. He didn’t slow, either, and entered the blackwagon without another word.

Hedwyn gave a weak chuckle. “One day I will learn how he does that.”

“I’ll enjoy seeing your attempts. For today, though, maybe leave the cooking to me.”

His frown was as sincere as his smile. The man held every emotion in open arms, for all to see, and that was admirable. If unwise. “I mean no disrespect here, Reader, but… can you cook?”

Her reply died on her lips, and her mock gasp became a real one as the blackwagon rolled through the sea, and her body with it. She tried to catch the netting along the rail but staggered back too fast. Stupid, stupid. Her leg was still as such that she couldn’t support her whole weight for long, and without holding onto something she was at the mercy of the waves—or the Scribes, either way.

Hedwyn caught her by the arm and pulled her close, clinging to the rail.

“It seems I’m not the only one unused to the sea,” he said with a small smile. But she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, see the panic in his wide eyes. Was that panic, entirely? Or something more?

He was close enough in height to her that if she tilted her head up a bit, their lips would nearly graze. His seemed inviting, pressed as she was against him this way.

She took a step back, blushing. “Wyrmteeth. Ti’zo caught, uh, wyrmteeth and a few fish. We’ll feast tonight.”

“Oh, right. That, well, that would work, um, given the Rites draw near.” He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, only to immediately remember where he was and claw at the rail for stability again. “I trust you know the basics of preparing food caught from the sea?”

She laughed and wondered why it was suddenly awkward, why her breath quickened, why her pulse raced. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“With you, my friend, I always am.”

Jodariel strode out from the blackwagon and tilted her head. “What in Soliam’s reach are you two doing out here? Neither of you should be attempting to walk unaided on this boat.”

Color rose to Hedwyn’s cheeks. “So we discovered. Sorry, Jodi, I’ll be more cautious.”

 

 

 

Maybe it was selfish, but Reader didn’t want to let Jodariel or Hedwyn go yet. As Rukey ascended back to the Commonwealth, she told herself it was because it would help Volfred’s Plan. The cur had plenty of wealthy connections that could aid their cause.

That was it. A logical decision. Not one born of sentiment, not entirely.

Guilt pricked her thoughts as she recalled all the times Jodi swore Hedwyn would go free first, to be with that damned Harp of his. All the times Hedwyn said Jodi should go first, her foster children surely missed her. Reader looked up to the stars and found none.

Did she make the right choice?

“It’s funny,” Hedwyn said as he approached her in the Moonlight Alcove. “Back home I was perhaps too impatient. Without a doubt it contributed to my exile.” He stared up at the darkness. “Now I’m content to wait for the Rites to begin again. I believe in our cause, and that gives me the courage to bide my time without fear.”

“You wait to be with the one you love. It’s very noble. A passionate bond that transcends exile itself. The bards will surely sing of it for ages to come,” Reader replied with a sad smile.

But Hedwyn didn’t return the gesture. Instead he looked down, frowning. “I suppose.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to be uncertain.”

“That’s not true at all, my friend. But I tend to mask my concerns by focusing on the present, on fulfilling my promise to Jodi. To you.” He took a step towards her at that, then hesitated, and resumed his search of the stars.

“I believe you’ll see it through. You’re driven, and earnest. Admirable qualities in a leader, I think Volfred would say,” she said.

Hedwyn grunted, and the noncommittal gesture was strange from him. After a moment, he sighed. “Fikani was—is—a kind soul. Drive and sincerity, these things you ascribe to me, she naturally had. I was—am—inspired by her. We believed we could help make a better future for Harps and humans alike. Often in the early days of my exile I wondered what she would do, were she here. It helped.”

“She sounds like a good woman.” Once again guilt whispered at the back of her mind, this time because her jealousy of Hedwyn’s love was infantile. She would be happy for her friend. Scribes knew she’d been selfish enough, keeping him here longer. “May the Rites return you to her soon.”

Hedwyn tensed and frowned at the night sky. “Don’t say that. I would see this through to the end, first.”

“I’d have it no other way.” Reader put a hand on his shoulder, and he smiled.

 

 

 

The blackwagon could _fly_. Reader laughed and closed her eyes as the wind whipped her hair about her face. “Is this how Harps feel when they take flight?” she called to Pamitha.

The Harp grinned. “Elation? A sense of belonging like none other? Why yes, darling. You’re quite a kindred spirit.”

Jodariel scoffed and went back inside. Sir Gilman coiled around the mast and muttered prayers without end while Ti’zo and Zhae hopped about near the prow. Volfred blew smoke into the currents. For a moment it seemed Tariq smiled at her excitement, but like so much else it was hard to tell with that one.

Hedwyn’s laughter matched hers, and suddenly she was being lifted up and up as he twirled her around. She braced herself with her hands on his shoulders, and when he gently returned her to the blackwagon they lingered close a moment. Then another.

His hands didn’t leave her waist and he seemed to get closer, closer.

Pamitha flapped down to them and the trance broke. “Surely being in the sky is not so frightening that you have to cling to one another, is it? Though if it is, Reader dear, I volunteer for the role. It looks rather fun.” Her grin was wicked and Reader blushed.

“Oh. No, uh, no need, though I appreciate the concern. Now if you’ll excuse me, we still have way more gutter crab than I know what to do with.” Hedwyn gently squeezed the Reader’s upper arm and left.

“Shame, his taste in Harps seems to have faded over time. Wouldn’t you say, darling?” Pamitha covered her smile demurely with a clipped wing before taking off for the blackwagon’s roof.

 

 

 

A messenger imp arrived for Hedwyn. Unlike the first imp from Rukey, this was a letter read in private. Had she not happened to notice the pudgy, cute thing flitting about with Ti’zo before taking off into the sky she would have missed it entirely.

She found Hedwyn at the prow of the blackwagon. “Good news I hope?” she asked, standing on tip-toes to peer over his shoulder, hoping it would make him smile.

It did. He put the letter away. “I got word to Fikani, to let her know I survived.”

Oh. “I’m sure she misses you.”

“Yes, but…” he looked at Reader. “My feelings for her have diminished over time. Young love isn’t always true, and I’ve been thinking over it more and more. The longer I’m here the less I miss her. And she agrees.

“What we want for Harps and humans hasn’t changed, but the two of us have. She wishes me luck. And to all the Nightwings as well.” He chuckled. “So it seems my heart and mind are free to focus on the present. Don’t worry, my friend. I meant what I said before. I’ll be ready for the next Rite.”

Reader didn’t trust her voice, didn’t dare voice how happy she was that maybe—just maybe—he might also feel something more than bonds of friendship. Instead she merely nodded and watched him go prepare. 

 

 

 

  
“If you’re thinking of sending me back this time, don’t.” Jodariel crossed her arms. “There will be a few more, and you need my strength yet.”

Reader had been waiting for this conversation. They rested at the foot of Mount Alodiel once more, and again she would have to choose.

“You or Hedwyn deserve to go next,” she stated.

“Then send Hedwyn. He is skilled but… the Harp or Zhae make up for his absence.”

She fiddled with the Book, pretending to stare at a page on Gol Golathanian. “Jodi I,” she paused and inhaled sharply, “I’ll consider it.”

Jodi leaned her back against the desk so Reader had no choice but to look at the demon. “Does he know you care for him this much?”

With a _thump_ , she shut the Book. “It won’t affect my ability to do what’s best for the Nightwings.”

“I don’t doubt that. And,” Jodariel scanned the room and even peeked into the common room for movement before saying, “I wouldn’t worry, he is as conflicted as you and has been for awhile. I won’t pretend to understand the heart, but you are both my friends, and you suit each other. I wish you happiness.”

The Reader blinked into Jodi’s purple coat as the horned woman pulled her into a strong hug, then wrapped her arms around Jodi’s waist. “And to you too. Even if you have a thing for blue-haired Harps.”

Jodi gave a slight snarl at that, but it was more a weak admission, and the two laughed.

 

 

 

Hedwyn watched with the other Nightwings as Jodariel ascended to freedom. “It’s good you sent her back first.”

Reader shook her head. “It was selfish, and Sandra would call me an idiot for acting on emotions that will only hurt later.”

The man said nothing as they made for the Moonlight Alcove. They avoided one another as much as possible. He was likely confused, maybe even thought she didn’t care for him, but she didn’t want to indulge her heart. Not now. Not when she had to stay here while he soon went free. It was cruel.

And yet…

 

 

 

Reader stared up at the Greater Titans, or the few that glimmered in the darkness above the Isle of Khaylmer, their sickly red light engulfing the otherwise starless night around them more and more each moon. There were six now. She couldn’t help but wonder who invoked them, fed them power. If she called on them in the Rites, what would become of them?

While Volfred and Tariq and Ti’zo talked in the main area of the blackwagon, Pamitha and Zhae huddled outside looking for a talisman Pamitha thought her people buried here once. It left Hedwyn alone with her in the common room. Was that on purpose?

Did the entire group know of her cursed weakness?

Hedwyn sat next to her on her bunk, the nicest of the bunch towards the privy. A courtesy, given her leg. It dangled at a wrong angle still, and it still ached. He seemed to sense her focus and said nothing, waiting for her to break the silence. And it had been a heavy silence of late between them. He missed Jodariel, Rukey. Maybe Fikani. Maybe he doubted their ability to succeed now as she did. In any case, she didn’t care for it, and neither did he. It had kept them apart.

Until tonight.

“You asked me once if they did this to me.” She steeled herself against the memories. “I kept my library in plain sight, at the back of a wealthy patron’s store. Not foolishly, mind you. They never would’ve checked for fear of reprisal had one of my first students not been caught and bribed. Rather than give away my friends, I said it was mine. And it was, mostly.”

She looked down at her scarred legs. “They wanted to ensure I wouldn’t last down here to spread heretical knowledge. But really that was an excuse, or else they’d have cut out my tongue.”

“Morbid, but true,” Hedwyn murmured. He put a hand on her knee, thumbing it in quiet reassurance. She let him and it dared her to speak further.

“I’d only been here two weeks when you found me. I doubt I’d have lasted the day. But you helped me when you could’ve moved along. You’re a caring soul, and have a generous heart. You deserve happiness, a life.” She cupped his cheek. “For that I promise to see you free, no matter what. Even if I have to extinguish the stars.”

Before he could reply, before she could process what was admitted, she left the room, heart racing.

 

 

 

“Who will you pick this time?”

On the night of the Liberation Rite, Reader expected the question from Volfred, but not Hedwyn. He stirred the bubbling stew without care, which was also unlike him.

She wasn’t sure how to answer. Couldn’t, ultimately. Instead she asked, “Do you know why I call myself Reader, but Volfred doesn’t?”

“Because you’re our Reader?” When she lifted an eyebrow and gave a wry expression he lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I never wanted to pry, but…”

He sat down at the table next to her. “When I first arrived I referred to myself as the Deserter. Rarely by my name. I was ashamed of the lives I cost, you know? But then I found Jodi, and she called me Hedwyn in that familiar way.” He smiled at the memory. “It reminded me that I am more than my past actions.”

“For that I’m glad. Your—” sincerity is part of what I love about you. She couldn’t say it, damn her stupid heart. “You would have made a very terrible Deserter.”

“Well you do not make a bad Reader.”

“I hope not. My library was my life’s work, and they burned it in a day.” She frowned at the brand on her wrist. “But I’m still a Reader. They didn’t take that, and if this Plan works they’ll never forget a Reader helped end them.”

Hedwyn went silent a while. She could have peered into his mind but decided not to. Then he looked to her with purpose, whatever internal struggle resolved. “In case I end up, well, free by the end of tonight, will you tell me something?”

“Anything.” She meant it.

“What’s your real name?”

Some part of her almost didn’t want to say. More than anything she wanted him to know. “Iari.”

He put a hand over hers. “It’s beautiful.”

 _So are you._ “And your soup is burning.”

With a curse he jumped up and returned to his cooking. She laughed, and hoped the good-natured Hedwyn before her never changed once she sent him back to the Commonwealth.

Tonight, she could send him back tonight. Tears almost welled up at the thought, but she refused to yield to the reality of her situation. There would be time later for that. All the time in the world.

But something inside her begged for a reprieve. Begged for freedom, now that her friends had given her new resolve. Now that Hedwyn smiled at her that way.

 

 

 

Volfred watched Ti’zo ascend with awe and bafflement. He turned to the Reader, and she met his gaze.

 _Not that I’m questioning your judgment, my girl, but wouldn’t freeing Hedwyn or even Pamitha have been more helpful to our cause?_ He asked her through his thoughts, Reader to Reader.

_Consider him an omen of change to the Commonwealth. A declaration, or something._

Volfred frowned. _And what would that declare, exactly? Here is a drive-imp, brave though he may be, fear him?_

 _I can’t part with him yet_ , she admitted with clenched fists. _I can’t leave, but he can. And he will. You will. Ti’zo did, Jodi did. Rukey did. Pamitha, Gilman, Zhae even, they all do well enough down here. I’ve done the numbers, I’ve considered how many Rites remain. I’ve thought your Plan through again and again and again. But I can’t part with him yet._

Volfred bowed his head to her in silent understanding, and they once again made for the Moonlight Alcove.

 

 

 

Hedwyn found her in her quarters not long after. The rain did not let up, and he was soaked through.

“Did you run across the entire Alcove?” she said with a smile.

“Volfred prepared me to go.” His voice was uneven and ragged from running. He shook his head, water dripping from his red hair. “I thought you would send me if it was best for the Plan. Despite…”

“I couldn’t,” she mumbled.

He bridged the distance between them to the rhythm of the rain.

“Why?” he murmured back.

His breath grazed her lips, his hands playing with the blue sash around her waist, wanting, tugging. Waiting to hear the words.

“I couldn’t let you go, not until you knew what you mean to m—”

His mouth pressed against hers. Over and over. All the unspoken glances and gentle touches, all the embraces and quiet moments broke free.

They stumbled backwards in a tumble of lips and sharp exaltations. It didn’t matter where they ended up, and she giggled when he nearly tripped to the floor. Before he pinned her to the wall with a wicked grin at her whimper.

Heat coursed through her cheeks, her lips, her thighs. Fingers twined through his wet hair to pull him closer, closer. His gasping lips trailed kisses down her neck as he adjusted, reaching under her tunic in response to her arching spine. Anything to be nearer. Anything. Her panting equaled his in her ears when their lips met again. She didn’t want to let go, could barely think with him grabbing the small of her back, eagerly exploring her body between his chest and the wall.

Scribes above, he threw all of himself into this as he did all things, and she responded in kind, unsteady hands groping for his clothes.

That damn red cloak and tunic of his was not only heavy and damp, but awkward to unfasten. She broke away, frustrated groan halfway to a heady sigh at his eagerness to kiss elsewhere, and yanked at the fabric.

With a breathy laugh he used his hips to hold her still and undressed. But she wasn’t waiting. She teased her hips against his while he was preoccupied, grinning at his hardness. The fact he wanted her as much as she wanted him drove the ache between her legs. He gave a small moan as she worked her way down to his collarbone.

Her hips still played against his, a dance with a beat that heightened in intensity with each sway. The cloak was tugged off faster, and he fumbled with the clasp impatiently.

When the tunic came free, he tilted up her chin and returned to her mouth with an exciting amount of greediness. Fingertips made indents in his shoulders. She clung to him, aware of every rise and fall, uncaring of anything except his mouth on hers.

Uncaring of her tunic hoisted overhead. She shivered as his cold skin pressed against her heat.

The need to stay like this consumed her, to focus on every touch, every blissful ache, his muttered swears. He pressed between her legs faster and faster. It was unromantic, but she shoved off her breeches to feel him. Shoved off his own so he could feel her.

He ran his fingers along the scars on her shin, her knee, her thigh with surprisingly gentle caresses, and hooked her leg around his hip. He paused to see her reaction. To gauge for pain, but she was too preoccupied. That was a reality to deal with later. For now she kept his lips parted and hungry against hers, positioning his length at her entrance.

Hedwyn bucked his hips once, twice, tempted by her offer before groaning, “Not here... Your other leg.”

Was trembling. And not just because his soft lips, eager at the base of her neck, made her head spin. The muscles would begin to spasm and sting soon. Still, if he thought he was breathless now, she’d make him burn.

With teasing strides on unsteady limbs she guided him away from the wall, palms against his chest. Hands found their way lower and lower until they wrapped around his hardness. His eyes rolled back and his gasping made her breaths come faster, fingers toying with his head before pumping the length of him with slow, urgent motions. One last confident shove and he tumbled onto the bed, sitting on its edge. Propped up only by shaking arms. Now his muscles trembled the way he made hers.

If she were more patient, she would have explored all of him first. But she wasn’t patient. Not anymore. Not when she wasn’t sure when they would get this chance again.

Hand still on his length, she steadied her blasted knees against the soft down comforter and positioned him near her wetness. Waited only to look at him, her pulse beating between her legs most of all.

Hedwyn seemed to have the same idea, chest heaving. They’d wanted this for too long to wait more.

He groaned relief in time with her when he slid in, grasping at her waist for any sort of purchase. Flat on his back as she eased onto him with shudders and euphoric whispers. Slow for only a moment before her need caused her hips to rock back and forth.

Each time heightening her pace.

With a graceful motion that hinted at his abilities in the Rites, he leaned forward and cradled her until she felt him in a way that made urgent swearing become irreverent blasphemy. He rocked her with increased tempo.

Faster, faster.

Her hand found its way to her clit and she nearly came undone. His mouth pressed into her shoulder, her true name moaned into the night as he gripped her hips and rocked them desperately. She was close, so close—

Their movements became erratic and she let out frantic sets of gasps as she came, grabbing for his back as he kept her steady. Or tried. Unapologetic moans fell out of her in waves as he rubbed her clit through her orgasm. She couldn’t contain herself, and she was far too gone to try. The sound of her, head thrown back, made him thrust harder. Gasping and gasping until she felt his release.

He came with raspy breaths and shivers as she clung to him, groaning as she rode out every twitch and sigh until they were panting and sweating on top of each other.

Energy spent, they slowly settled into a more comfortable position on the bed. He caressed her back. She caught her breath against his side.

“That was…” Hedwyn let out a dazed chuckle.

She planted a gentle kiss on his ribs, memorizing it all. His coarse, kind hands. His content grin when he stared at her.

Everything.

 

  
As the moons passed, snow began to fall. Some considered it an ill omen, but Hedwyn and the Reader made the best of it. They could not be pried from one another, and no one in their party wanted to deny them a happy respite. And it was happy, full of tender nights and passionate mornings.

But this time was different. The stars returned earlier than expected, and Reader frowned up at the darkness. Only a few stars glimmered above. Far too few.

She returned to the ground and to the others, gave their destination.

“Everyone prepare the blackwagon. I would speak with our Reader a moment,” Volfred ordered.

Hedwyn reluctantly obeyed, squeezing her hand before joining the others.

 _This is Oralech’s doing_ , Volfred said in her mind. H _e was denied the freedom rightfully his and, well. Honestly, my girl, I can’t blame his hatred of the Rites. I hate them just as much. For taking him from me. For his lost future. Perhaps not so lost, if he can seize it again._ That seemed to make Volfred both happy and sad. One of the new Nightwings would be denied so that Oralech could at last know peace. It was cruel.

 _You were fond of him_ , she thought.

“I loved him,” he said, and the tenderness in his voice surprised her. “I love him still. But…”

The Plan.

 _Is this the last Rite?_ Volfred asked.

 _I don’t know. Possibly? If not the last, close enough. Don’t worry, my friend._ She smiled sadly at the Sap. _I know what to do._

She turned to the blackwagon with Volfred, watched Hedwyn crack a joke to Tariq, who gave an almost imperceptible smile. Her leg began to throb in time with the headache roaring in her ears, muscles too tense as she held herself together.

Yes, she knew quite well what had to be done.

 

 

 

The Fate made it to Mount Alodiel at last. Reader watched Dalbert honor the Nightwings, and the others returned his grace in kind, as always. Guilt twisted in her gut. There would be no liberation for him, if she could help it. Why had the Scribes decided this was the only way? Surely there was a better solution, if mercy was their ideal.

“Nightwings.” Celeste motioned for Reader to make her choices and her peace, cold eyes ever unwavering.

Volfred and Hedwyn both turned upward, knowing she could see them. Pamitha, Bertrude, Zhae, good Sir Gilman as well. All looking with a mixture of desperation and hope. Tariq gave a subtle nod down from his perch above the Liberation Rites.

“Hedwyn,” the Voice sneered as the man appeared before the pyre.

He saluted as was proper before unfastening his mask. With wide eyes he searched for her in the failing stars. “Why? Why now? If this might be the last Rite, if this is the end, why?” he yelled, voice cracking.

“Contain yourself,” Celeste warned, though softer than she had others in the past.

His mind opened to her. _You know I would be with you rather than free to live knowing you were stuck here, forever. Iari please. Please._ Aloud he only said, “My apologies,” and put his mask back on with a long sigh.

“Zhae,” the Voice hissed as the girl saluted.

“Oh. Is it time? May the Scribes favor us. But. Maybe they’ll favor Almer and his father a little, too?” Zhae mumbled.

“Pamitha,” the Voice droned.

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll see to things,” Pamitha saluted.

After a moment, Hedwyn cried out, “Reader! My friend. My…” He cursed, muffled under the mask. “You’ve gotten us this far without fail. If this is what you want, I’ll do whatever it takes to see it done.”

With that, the celestial orb fell and he made good on his word.

Dalbert, the old cur, sped towards the orb faster than ever before. Hedwyn leapt and beat him to it. Raced around Almer’s defensive charge and jumped headlong into the flames.

 

 

It was finished. Hedwyn bowed before the Fall of Soliam, arms outstretched. Reader stood with the others on the steps of the dais, and for a moment, a brief and sickening moment, she understood what drove Erisa to dive for freedom. Unlike the Nightwing of old, she never moved.

Once the Voice finished intoning the Liberation words, Hedwyn turned to his companions. “My friends, thank you for everything. I’ll make good use of the chance you’ve given me. Believe in our cause. In us, in how far we’ve come. How far we’ll go. No matter what happens, we’ll always be connected, separated or not. We can do this, you know?”

The Shimmering-Pool descended, embraced him, and hefted him upward. As he was engulfed in light, his voice drifted down. “And Reader? I lov—no. I’ll say it properly when I see you again. And I will see you again. Until then, don’t forget me.”

And just like that, the Liberation Rite ended.

Hedwyn was gone.

 

 

 

They would never set foot in the Moonlight Alcove again. The stars shone brighter than ever before, and she knew it to be a final death knell. The Rites would not wait. They spun through their motions faster and faster until they were snuffed out.

“Two more, then. Perhaps three.” Volfred watched the sky, pipe in hand. “A fine choice with Hedwyn’s ascent, my girl.”

“My gamble? I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want any complications.”

“No repeats of history, you mean? It’s all right. I would have done the same, were I you.” Volfred chuckled and exhaled cloud of smoke that smelled of honey and damp earth. His expression shifted and he looked sad, tired. Older. “When we fight Oralech, I can’t guarantee the outcome. He’s angry and a far more experienced triumvirate than any of us. He very well might win.”

“That’s fine. Your Plan has enough going for it now, it’ll happen no matter what. With or without you.”

Volfred regarded her a moment and smiled. “I see. I suppose I should thank you.”

“For what? Potentially trapping you down here with me forever because I got sentimental?”

“For considering my own sentiments as well. For allowing me the option of possibly being with him again, regardless.” He bowed his head to her, hand over chest.

 _One of us has to get nice things out of this_ , she thought to him.

_Have faith. It’s not over yet._

 

 

 

Volfred ascended despite the Voice’s consternation and near unwillingness to complete the formalities. Reader was proud, if sad. Proud that the Sap would see his Plan to fruition. Sad that she might never see him again.

“I see what you’re doing, darling,” Pamitha said as they made for the blackwagon one last time.

“And what’s that?” she replied.

“Volfred and that Oralech have a history, that much is plain. And you weren’t sure if Oralech would cut us off from victory this time, yes? So you readied who to send in advance. Should the scary demon get in our way, Volfred could at least talk him down. Or perhaps we would win and you would send Hedwyn. If that were the last Rite, let Volfred and his old flame live their lives down here in as much peace as this place can give. If it weren’t, send Sandalwood to ensure he at least gets to ensure his work wasn’t in vain. Is that about right?”

“When you put it like that it sounds way better than it does in my head.”

Pamitha laughed. “You Readers are all a scheming breed, aren’t you?” Then she grew serious. “The next Rite will be the last, that much even I can see. Oralech will challenge us.”

“Probably,” she replied.

“Then send me. Or rather, use me. Don’t get me wrong, dear, freedom would be nice, but I don’t need it. Besides, you can’t be freed either.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “My, my what a pair.”

Reader didn’t reply. She was tired, and glad the Rites would end soon one way or another. With a numbness she hadn’t felt since her life crumbled to ashes, she looked to the dimming stars. Did Hedwyn look up too? She hoped so.

 

 

 

Oralech waited for them at the Liberation Rite. The last. Reader felt his fury and anguish claw at her exhaustion. The last few Rites had been merciless in speed, and she found herself wanting to end this only so she could rest. But not yet.

Pamitha nodded to her as she was chosen. Bertrude and Zhae manifested with the traditional flourishes as well.

The demon scoffed. “You’re all that remains between me and my freedom? Come, then, you false Nightwings. Contest me with everything you are.”

They obliged.

More than once Pamitha managed to fly into the flames. The red pyre dimmed with each strike until it struggled to keep alight.

Oralech growled. Hurled the orb right into her. She dissolved with a shriek. Then Zhae. Then Bertrude. Again and again until the blue flames of their pyre barely flickered above the Nightwing’s sigil. Proof of his hatred.

“Is that it? You sought to replace me and steal what was mine like this?” he snarled. “It will not be enough.”

Pamitha flew between him and the pyre, orb in her clutches. Are you sure about this, Reader darling? she asked.

Reader sent waves of assurance and gratitude into the Harp’s mind.

Even mentally, Pamitha’s chuckle was melodious and shrewd. Very well.

Oralech charged. Rather than drop the ball and shield herself or run, Pamitha simply smiled, closed her eyes, and let his aura banish her.

If the demon was surprised he didn’t show it. He jumped into the flames with a triumphant laugh. He had won his freedom again. He would truly have it this time too. Reader wished him well.

 

 

The gate was flung open. Oralech could go free. Or anyone.

Anyone…

She could see Oralech’s conflict, see him struggling with the concept of the Rites and his hatred, and decided to help him sort it out. A gentle touch on his mind, she imagined holding his hand before a Rite as she would’ve any of her friends. Showed him

Volfred’s fondness for him, what he said of their love. Everything.

Why? Why help me? he whispered in his mind. I’ve done nothing but hinder or try to deny your freedom for the sake of my own. So why?

Because you deserved to be free long ago. Because this Rite is cruel and I hate it. Because I would see Volfred smile as he does when he thinks of you. Pick one.

He severed the connection. “No.” With a growl he turned to the Shimmering-Pool. “I haven’t come this far only to obey the Rites now.”

Celeste frowned. “Careful, should you follow the way of your predecessor.”

Oralech ignored her and extended his hand to the Reader. “Come with me. Your freedom was denied for reasons beyond your control. I would see us both loosed upon the Commonwealth.”

“You will surely die,” Celeste warned.

“And how do you know that? Do you know it as you knew I would undo your Rites? No.” Oralech motioned to Reader again. “Let us make our own fate.”

“Much as I hate to admit it, I agree with the demon. Go, darling. Go be with him.” Pamitha smiled.

“Don’t worry, Miss. The Scribes, I think they wanted this!” Zhae said, Bertrude hissing in agreement behind her.

Reader gave them thanks and took Oralech’s hand. They walked into the blinding light. Energy threatened to tear her apart, but she held fast. With his body as a shield they were flung up and up and up and—

 

 

 

Pain radiated from her legs. She woke with a gasp on a barren field, and for a terrified moment worried she was in the very place she’d started all those moons ago. But the grass beneath her was the yellow of summer, nothing more.

“Here! She is here.” Oralech’s voice.

People surrounded her, their shadows making it easier to find her focus out of the sun. She looked up and her heart lurched. Jodariel, Volfred, Ti’zo, and Rukey all stood there, grinning. And then a familiar face feel to his knees embraced her, careful of her wounds.

“I knew you’d make it. I knew,” Hedwyn mumbled into her cloak. Tears rolled down her cheeks despite her best efforts as she hugged him back.

“That’s well and all, but I think I’m bleeding.”

“Minor scratches and cuts. You’ll be fine.” Oralech smiled, hand tentatively curled around Volfred’s.

“Oh, that’s good.”

With a relieved scoff, Hedwyn planted kisses on her cheek, her nose, her forehead, her lips. “I love you.”

“You could’ve said that sooner, you know.” But she pressed her head into his neck as he lifted her up. “I love you too.”

 

They carried her to the new Union, where she built one of the greatest libraries in history. It still exists for all to use and gain knowledge from to this day.


End file.
